Ferris Wheel
by Achromatopsia
Summary: Sometimes life's just too damn philosophical for a person to bear. — axelriku, rikuaxel. au.


**Ferris Wheel**

'Prologue'

Childhood is one of the most important times in a person's life, considering that they only get one shot at being a kid. Childhood goes by in a blink of an eye- before a person knows it, he's paying taxes and fending for himself in the corporate world. Yes, soon little Susie is Susan, newly married to Bob, formerly little Bobby, and they're trying to keep up with the Joneses. But the Joneses somehow manage to get _just a little more _ahead.

But for one special boy named Axel, childhood was a never-ending story. At eleven (and a half)-years-old, he felt like he had a million more years until his parent stopped treating him like a baby. She was always telling him not to go to certain places, not to do certain things and all this other garbage that adults tell their eleven-year-old sons not to do. And then she want to get just a little bit pissed when he goes and rebels against them.

Just like the other day…

When he took off his gloves, because they were so _uncomfortable_ and he just wanted a moment's peace without having to wear them. And as soon as the black gloves hit the floor his mother was on him like... like—

You know.

She was upset.

Really, really, really upset with him.

She had scolded him for about an hour or so, making him put his gloves back on, telling him that he could not, under any circumstances, take off his gloves. He tried to argue, telling her that other kids didn't have to wear gloves. His mother inhaled a breath, trying to assure him that he wasn't like other kids. He was different. In fact, he was _so_ different that he had to wear gloves twenty-four hours a day.

When he demanded as to _why_ he was so different, his mother just shook her head. She just shook her head, using the ancient phrase: God had made him that way, in the same way God made people tall or short.

But Axel wasn't one of those dumb eleven-year-olds. Obviously God had made him the way he was because God hated him. God only made the people He hated really different, or He screwed their lives over.

"No, that's not true," his mother said in one of those sweet voices after he told her this theory. His mother shook her head a couple of times as if she could not believe what he was saying.

"_Mom_..."

He had whined back, but she just continued to shake her head. She walked away from him, muttering something about getting dinner started- this was, of course, her way of telling him that this conversation was over.

He was left to slump his shoulders, putting himself in the worst posture known to man. He trudged his way upstairs to his room, where he would play a video game in a system that would become more than obsolete in about ten or eleven years.

Life really sucked when you were eleven (and a half)-years-old—it really did.

"Stupid," his whispered, "God hates me."

He opened the door to his bedroom, jumped on his bed with a small pout on his face. His gloved hands reached for a pillow, pulling it close to him as he laid his head on it. He was all alone in a world where everyone but him did not have to wear gloves because their hands were abnormal. It wasn't his fault that he had been born with some freaky power-like thing that made everything he touched spontaneously combust or burn.

Axel was the real victim in this whole situation.

The victim, the one who was plagued by some random curse that God had given him— his mother said that it was supposed to help him build character. It was supposed to help him become a better person. But he knew his mother was lying— his mother lied to him a lot. When he was six, his mother told him that the tooth fairy was real. However, one night while his mother was slipping his tooth money under his pillow, he had woken up and saw her.

He hadn't trusted her since. No sir-ee.

Axel squeezed his eyes shut. This _curse_ was driving him insane. He wished his life was over. He wished that he were dead like his grandma on his dad's side. He wanted to be buried six feet under ground in a slumbering bliss. No matter what anyone said, the dead people were living the life. They had absolutely no responsibility. No one lied to the dead people and told them they weren't really dead. No one would call their names only to make them do a bunch of chores.

Yep, he wanted to be dead. His mind relaxed and he started to drift off into a world of sleep commonly referred to as "Dreamland." He was having one of those huge tea parties with a whole bunch of dead people. They clinked their small teacups together, talking amongst themselves. They talked about nothing in particular—no one had anything specific to bring up.

-

"—to the park?"

His shook his head. Sure, he had missed the first half of the question but he knew exactly what his mother was asking him. She asked him where he wanted to go every single day. His mom was one of those mothers who had no life other than her child. The kind who liked to make sure her child was well off. She wasn't over-protective or overly obsessed. She was just his mother-- she just cared about him and that was it.

"I see, okay, then, maybe we can go some other time." She said this more to herself than anyone else. "Tomorrow might be a good day to go."

He nodded his head absentmindedly, not really listening to what she was saying.

But what else where you supposed to do when the whole entire world plus God was against you? Be one of those overly chipper, overly optimistic people with all their smiles and happy-go-lucky phrases? No freaking way. At eleven (and a half), Axel was too much of an "adult" to try and lie about his feelings.

Besides, some shrink on the TV one day last week had said that lying about your feelings and emotions is a very damaging thing. It could destroy a person from the inside out if he pretended to be something he wasn't and was untrue to himself. You risk your own sanity. And even though he didn't really know all too much about sanity, he knew he wasn't about to risk it. The only thing he knew was that if you were insane, you went to a special house full of insane people just like you.

"Did you hear me?"

Lovely-- his mother once again forcing her way into his thoughts.

"No mom, I didn't," he grumbled back between clenched teeth, feigning being upset with her. Being mad was the hardest thing to do in the entire world. It was especially hard when you wanted to be nice and kind, but, oh wait... you were to busy being angry.

"Well, if you hadn't been _pouting_ then you would have heard me tell you that we're going to go to this nice, little coffee shop." His mother bent down and placed a box of tissues on the coffee table. "It's one of those small business places that's recently opened-- I hear it's actually pretty good. Don't you think that'd be nice?" He watched carefully as the box of tissues was turned at an angle.

If she said they were going to go, why would his opinion matter?

"Suuurrrrre," he responded in one of those partially annoyed voices. But his mom did not notice, because mothers never really seem to notice when their kids are partially annoyed. And when you ask them _why_ they don't notice, they end up telling you to stop having such an attitude. Then you're stuck trying to explain that you didn't have an attitude and you were just asking a question, but then she tells you to stop talking back.

"Good. Now go put on your jacket—the **new** one that auntie got you for Christmas, okay?"

"The new one sucks, it's all tight—"

"Don't say 'sucks.' I really don't want to hear that word come out of your mouth."

"_All the other_ sixth graders are saying it."

No response.

That's because the phrase "All the other..." was considered to be linked to peer pressure and his mother hated anything that had to do with him giving into peer pressure. That was one of those bad things that the government was about to start paying kids not to give into. At least that's what his health teacher had told him; that, and his health teacher had been walked out on by his wife. Whatever teachers told you was supposedly _somewhat_ true, unless the government had a say in the matter.

Apparently, public school meant that the school was a government establishment and that as soon as you walked into the building, you lost more than half of your rights as a citizen.

But, hey, that's what you get to do when you're _The Man-- The Man_ who controls everyone and everything.

"Axel, honey, _please_ go put on your jacket."

His mom really liked cutting into his thoughts. His musings were cut short as he was forced to do as she said, putting on the jacket and following her to the car.

-

"Eww, gross, this place stinks!" He was two steps behind his mother and two steps from getting turned around and told to go sit in the car; with the windows down of course. But the little coffee shop did stink—or, well, it smelled like coffee and baked goods, which wasn't really that bad a smell. It was just that he had to do his job-- if he didn't complain about at least one thing, he wasn't doing his job.

But his mom wasn't paying much attention to him. She was too busy talking to some other woman about how good everything smelt and how she didn't know exactly what to get. She was completely and utterly deaf to his complaints. Or she was at least pretending not to hear what he was saying, because his mother was one of those mothers who didn't like listening to whining and complaining.

"_Mo-om_, it stinks." He tried again.

His mom only stopped to open the door and shoo him inside, still talking to this woman who followed them into the coffee shop— it still smelled bad by the way. However, if he thought the smell was horrible outside, he obviously hadn't been prepared for the inside. The inside, which was warm and cozy, reminded him of some log cabin in the woods. Unfortunately, it was like one of those log cabins that didn't have a bathroom, so you had to go and do your business outside with the bears and use leaves to wipe your butt.

He HATED it.

There was no way he could stay in this place for as long as his mother planned on staying there.

His mother placed a hand on Axel's shoulders, pushing him along toward a small little table with two chairs sticking out. The woman told his mom something along the lines of her having to go because she _worked_ at the coffee shop. Then his mother put this big look of shock on her face, because she would have never, _ever _suspected that the woman who she was talking to worked at such a "fabulous" place.

Axel sighed, making a face. His mother was still trying to get over her shock of this new revelation, so she paid no heed to this. The woman told his mother that she would not mind giving her a discount when the waitress put in their order.

It was such a sweet offer.

But his mother declines— she was one of those people who hated cheating other people out of money. She supported small business with a passion— it was so brave for someone to try and attempt to survive out there in a world full of big business tycoons. Then, one day, that small business owner would become a big business tycoon and open up multiple stores or shops all over the world.

Just lovely.

Just very, _very_ lovely.

"Isn't this such a nice place— I absolutely love it. Makes me wanna open that flower shop I've always dreamed about."

His mother was a math teacher. She taught AP Calculus BC to a bunch of high school seniors who thought they were the greatest and smartest things known to man. Even though they sometimes gave her headaches and whatnot, she adored her students. She loved them as if they were her own children— she told Axel afterwards that she loved him _way more_ than she loved her students.

But from time to time his mother would tell him that there was something else that she wanted to do other than teach.

She wanted to own one of those fancy, little flower shops, selling violets and tulips and roses to the quaint inhabitants of their quaint town.

Axel sighed. "Yeah," he said blankly. He did not care— personally, he never would. He took the time to take a quick gander at the small coffee shop with its mix of fake and real flowers squished into every corner and on ever table in the center. Dozens of cookies and cakes were piled behind one of those glass windows. All of three or four waiters and waitresses were walking around, delivering sandwiches and cakes alongside some coffee or some other drink. Not only that, but it was incredulously crowded.

Over there— oh, what was this? While everyone else in the coffee shop was at least eleven or older, Axel had yet to spot someone as young as the kid sitting in the corner. He was sitting in the corner, playing with his bright red toy truck.

"I wonder..." Axel murmured to himself.

As he said those two words, he glanced to his mother— still busy talking to a waiter. Apparently, she was debating on two different types of muffins, gazing at the waiter often and asking him which one he thought was better.

So, he surmised, he could basically leave the table and his mom probably wouldn't even notice— just like in those cliché movies where the parents never noticed anything.

He slipped out of his chair and walked over to where the kid was sitting in the corner with his truck, a whole bunch of flowers surrounding him.

This might just be some fun. He guessed it was just some kindergarten baby who was probably searching for an older kid to idolize. Wouldn't it be kind if he granted the kid's wish? The kid, who was now pretending that his toy truck could fly and shoot laser beams at his unsuspecting opponents, crashing the truck into the ground moments later with proper sound effects included.

"Hey, kid, watcha doin'?" Axel stuffed his gloved hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. The kid simply set his toy truck on the floor, giving Axel this real strange look as if he hadn't quite understood the question. Axel just asked again. "Hey, kid, watcha doin'?"

The kid swallowed hard. "I'm playin' wif my toy, why?"

Axel nodded. "I dunno— just asking."

"My mommy owns this place and she tole me I could play here." The kid continued in a soft voice, picking at one of his shoelaces as he spoke. "I gotta question for ya mister. Is it okay if I ask ya question?" He looked up at the red-head with these big round eyes.

Axel pushed his gloved hands further into his pockets, nodding his head apprehensively. Maybe the kid had noticed the fact that his hands had gloves on them— little kids _did_ always like to ask pretty blunt questions. Those types of questions were the ones that could cause them to hurt someone's feelings without meaning to do so; but it was an accident.

"You wanna play Space Invaders?" The kid pulled a second truck out from what seemed like nowhere, holding it up towards Axel with this look on his face that was somewhere along the lines of pathetic. "Please?"

Axel pulled out one of his hands from his pocket, reaching out and grabbed the toy truck. He wondered exactly _where_ the toy truck had been. It was probably covered in kindergarten baby drool, having been touched all over after the kid had gone to the bathroom and had not washed his grubby, little hands. And thinking about where the toy had been made Axel want to puke all over the place. Little kids could be so disgusting if you gave them the chance.

"I don't think..." Axel told him as he frowned. "I don't think I want to play Space Invaders right now."

"Aw, c'mon, pretty please." The kid gave Axel this sad look; puppy dog eyes and all. "No one else will play wif me 'cause everyone in here's old an' stuff." He begged in one of those whiney voices.

Axel hated to disappoint the child but he most definitely hated those whiney voices; little high pitched voices that sounded worse that nails on a chalkboard. It made Axel shiver and it even put the nerves in his teeth on edge— _those_ little high pitched voices.

"I hate to have to say this kid but I think ya should know that I don't wanna play _Space Invaders_."

The kid stood, puffing up his chest, and pouted. "Please!" he whined, his voice dragging out every single letter of the word. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, please? Just this one time!"

"No. Plus, _Space Invaders_ is a **video **game, not something you play toy trucks with."

"They are not toy trucks! They're space ships, mister, space ships."

"Riku? What are you doing?" a new voice questioned impertinently, belonging to a woman in one of those aprons. "Please don't bother mommy's customers, okay? You have to play _quietly _or not all."

Just like that, the woman had walked over, grabbing the kid's hand as she let out a sigh. She then turned to Axel, giving him this apologetic look. "I'm sorry about him— he can get a little excited." She turned to the kid and gave him a soft smile. "You need to apologize."

"I'm sorry for bugging you and asking you to play Space Invaders with me even though you said 'no' anyway and besides you're the one who walked over here in the first placed and bothered me." The kid said in one quick breath.

"It's alright?" Axel offered tentatively, but apparently this was the wrong thing to say.

"No, that's not right! You're suppos'd ta say that you forgive me and—"

"—Riku, Riku, calm down," his mother interrupted, "He can say what he wants to."

Axel, hoping for some reprieve from this, turned his head to see what his mother was doing—she was looking over to where he was standing with a raised eyebrow. He decided to face the kid and his mom, shoved the toy truck he was still holding back into the younger's hand with a wave a goodbye. He walked back over to his mother, sitting in his chair. He placed his gloved hands on the table, clasping them together while he gave his mom a mischievous smile.

"I hope you weren't bothering that little boy and then getting him in trouble," she said in a warning tone, swirling a thin little coffee straw— she apparently received what she ordered while Axel was distracted. "I didn't get you anything but if you want you can have my other muffin. It's really good."

"Uh?"

"I promise you it's good— it's lemon poppy seed. If you don't like it, you can get something else."

"Sure, fine."

He looked over to where the muffin was sitting, reaching over and removing it from the orange plate that it was sitting on. He gave it an expectant look. It was a yellowish color and had these black dots —he guessed it was the poppy seed?— sprinkled all over it. He looked at it apprehensively, glancing at his mom. She merely stared back at him, waiting for him to take a bite. He swallowed hard, and in one smooth move, he brought the muffin to his lips, taking a bite.

For future references, lemon plus poppy seed plus Axel equaled "no"—a big, fat "no." The lemon poppy seed muffin was the worst muffin that he had ever eaten in his life to date. If he could relive that moment, he would stop himself from even taste testing the thing. It was that gross.

But his mom seemed to think that his gagging on the muffin was the funniest thing she had seen to date. To show his disproval, he stuck out his tongue, showing the entire world what a chewed lemon poppy seed muffin looked like.

"I see you're going to want something else." His mother gave him a smile, looking around for a waiter. Axel grabbed a napkin from its holder, wiping the chewed muffin off of his tongue. He crumbled it up, placing it next to the rest of the muffin.

"Hey, mister, you didn't like that muffin didja?" a voice asked. Axel, to his dismay, knew who it was from— a question from the oh-so-familiar kid.

The sound of the kid's voice alone made Axel want to scream— it was just so high pitched. Though, he knew the kid couldn't help it, since little kindergarten babies always had those kinds of voices.

"I hated it," Axel told the kid, his tone clearly annoyed. He could only hope that the kid would catch the hint that he was trying to drop.

Alas, he did not. "Is that your mommy?" the kid asked, looking from Axel to his mother and then back again. It looked like the kid was up for a game of twenty questions. "Is she? Because she looks like she might be your mommy."

"Yeah, that's my mom." Axel gave his mom a look that conveyed the message, _"__Help me get rid of him!__"_ Unfortunately, his mother was too busy waving a waitress over, so he was on his own.

"Mister what's your _real _name?"

Axel just inhaled and counted to ten— for some reason this kid was bothering him a whole lot. "Axel, how about you?" he replied, even though he was aware of what the kid's name was. However, if he was going to be stuck in conversation, he might as well try to make it a two-way one.

"Riku."

"Axel," his mother cut in, giving her son a smile, "Sorry to interrupt— I'm going to go to the restroom. I'll be back." She then left him alone with Riku, not knowing what kind of harm that would cause.

Years later, if Axel ever looked back on his life, he would suppose that this would be the moment that changed everything. If his mother would have stayed at the table for just a few minutes longer, then he might not have done what he was about to do. But his mother left, and she was the one thing that would have stopped him.

"Mister, I gotta another question," the kid said, interrupting.

"Sure."

The kid got this look of concentration on his face and Axel noticed that he was studying his gloves. It was as if he had never seen anyone wearing gloves before. Axel could only pray that the boy wouldn't ask what Axel thought he was going to ask.

Riku put a finger on his chin and then opened his mouth. "This is the last question I'm gonna ask you," he declared. "Here it goes: why do you wear gloves? It's not cold enough outside for people to be wearing gloves, so why do _you_ wear them?"

Axel paused.

He remembered the other day when he told his mother that God hated him. God _hated_ him.

"Here let me," he paused in his speech, thinking his words through. "Let me _show you_."

Axel was smirking devilishly by now; Riku gave him this nervous look as if he knew what was going to happen. But when Axel removed his gloves, Riku could only stand there with wide eyes. The red-head dropped his black gloves on the table, secretly wondering where his mother was and why wasn't she coming back to the table to stop him.

He looked down at his hands one last time and wondered exactly _why_ he was doing this. His mind told him quickly: God hated him, and the kid had reminded him that God hated him.

Axel held out his hand, offering it to Riku. The younger placed his own small hand into the larger one, the owner of it giving him this comforting smile. This assured that nothing was wrong, and that Riku's question had been purely innocent.

That quickly changed; in the next few seconds, Axel wrapped both of his hands around the kid's small wrist, waiting patiently. Of course, the wait wasn't that long; the kid's face screwed up in this odd expression as he opened his mouth and started screaming. He tried to pull himself away from the agony, but he could not.

Axel could smell the nasty smell of skin dying, listening to the sound of his mother running toward him. He could hear Riku's mother, and everyone else, yelling and shouting for him to stop. Alas, he wasn't going to stop, not really caring what anyone else was saying. He then felt someone trying to pull him off. He gripped the kid's arm harder, only hurting his arm even more.

Then he... he...

He could hear his mother call out to him in this desperately sad voice. She was begging with him, _pleading _with him to stop. She tried to reason with him, telling him that if he just stopped then they could just go home. This voice rang out in his mind—he did not even have to look at her to tell that tears were streaming down her face.

He then let go almost effortlessly. He let go for his mother. Riku let out a shuddered breath, giving the other a frightened stare. His burned arm was charred in some places and white in others. It was a pretty sick sight to behold; it was all Axel's fault. He had burned the kid on purpose.

Tears ran down the child's face, his features becoming blotchy— the whole thing was quite surreal. There was a man who was talking on the phone with what might have been 911, and all these people were just standing there— observing.

"Axel," his mother whispered, her voice strained. He looked to her, then at Riku. He was being held by his mother, who was whispering something in his ear. He could only respond by shaking his head, crying and shuddering. His eyes were looking anywhere but at Axel.

"Why?" he heard his mother say to him.

Axel just shrugged his shoulders, glancing around with a blank face that inferred he didn't understand. What was ironic was that part of him really did not understand what had happened, and it puzzled him. Sure, he had burned the kid because the kid had reminded him why God hated him. But there was a part of him that didn't quite why he had to resort to burning the kid.

Riku's mother looked at over at Axel shaking her head with tears in her eyes. She didn't have an accusatory look on her face like she should have. She just kind of had this look that asked the same question his own mother had. _Why?_ Why do that to a kindergarten baby who was just asking innocent questions. Axel's mind couldn't really think of a good enough answer.

He felt his mother slipping his black gloves back over his fingers, and he could hear some people making comments.

"Just ignore them," his mother said in a delicate voice. "Ignore them, alright?" However, Axel didn't know what she meant when she said that, because he couldn't hear anything at all. All he could hear was his own thoughts. His own thoughts were loud and clear, begging to know exactly why he had decided to burn the kid. Why couldn't he just explain to the kid in words? Why couldn't he have used some other method that wasn't violence?

His mother slipped his hand into hers, pulled him close and hugged him. From the looks of it, Axel figured that they would stay there until the police and ambulance came. The ambulance would take the kid away, while the police would take Axel away and lock him up in jail. He would probably stay in jail until the day he died, while Riku might have to stay in the hospital for a long, long time.

"Hey mister?"

It was the same voice that had asked him to play Space Invaders, and it was the same voice that had asked him twenty questions. Except this time, the voice was soft and meek, laced with the tears he had cried. It almost sounded as if the small child was going to burst into tears again at any moment.

Axel just gave the kid this weary sort of look, wondering what he would possibly want.

"Hey mister, I'm really sorry."

(**x**) (**x**) (**x**)

**note:**

good gosh I don't want to commit myself to a chaptered fic but at the same time I do. this lil' number came to me after I watched **Edward Scissorhands** and **Constantine **back to back...so if this seems a little _out there_ you know why. had to do some research for this one. I had to look up third degree burns and whatnot and skin graphs and all that other good stuff—which will come in handy later on.

a thank you goes out to my beta, **the white raven** because just because. and many thanks to a buddy of mine for letting me use their computer because at the moment my computer is sick and doesn't want to let me upload anything.

let me know what you think. hate it? like it? or somewhere in the middle?

**disclaimer: **do not own _kingdom hearts _or _space invaders_.


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